The Reporter
by inpeace
Summary: There's nothing perverse or wrong about having a little crush on your boss. Just don't let Bartimeaus find out. Slash/ Yaoi/ boyxboy
1. Chapter 1

Summary: There's nothing perverse or wrong about having a little crush on your boss. Just don't let Bartimeaus find out. Slash/ Yaoi/ boyxboy

A/N: for those who are annoyed by OCC fan fiction, pleas hold on until the end of the chapter. It will all make sense.

Not bata'ed. I wrote this years ago, and am now a little stuck. Criticism and tips both very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I don't even know which newspapers I am talking about.

Ch.1

Christopher Lain acts as the liaison between his home paper and the minister of information. Normally this position would be held by a more senior member at the paper but John Mandrake had specifically requested him.

Nearly a year ago, Lain had been accompanying his superior, Mr. Scott, to one of his regular meetings with Mr. Mandrake. Lain felt he had hardly contributed, in fact, he had accidentally dropped a few swears. He had really thought he would be fired for that. Even so, the next meeting scheduled, was scheduled with his name, not Mr. Scott's. Really, the seniority of the liaison was only an etiquette thing. A monkey could take down the adjustments and government approved versions of events.

This morning Lain had arrived at Mr. Mandrake's home office for his convenience; the man was extremely busy. Mr. Mandrake's assistant, Piper, had lead Lain to the office even though he knew the way. Maybe she thought he would steel something despite his clean suit and haircut. At the door to his office, Mr. Mandrake himself greeted Lain and relieved his assistant. Lain was embarrassed and flattered that the man had bothered to stop working, and even got up from his leather office chair.

Lain had put his binder and legal pad on the desktop and moved to sit down when he realized that Mr. Mandrake was not being his usual, efficient self. He was standing very close to Lain, on the side of the desk designated to visitors.

An inch or two taller than the reporter, he had to bend down a little for their lips to touch. It was soft and lasted for such a short moment, that Lain's eyes were still open when they separated. "What kind of woman do you like?" Mr. Mandrake asked incongruously. He looked down as his face colored. " I'm... not a woman, but-" They were already so close that Lain only had to move an inch to reconnect their lips. This kiss was much longer and much deeper.

Although he would later recall the action with shame and incredulity, Lain let the hand that was not tangled in soft, black hair drop to the minister's cotton covered ass. He squeezed, making Mr. Mandrake jump and break the kiss with a sharp breath; opening his mouth against the side of Lain's cheek. Lain kissed the newly available side of Mr. Mandrake's neck.

He reflected that his partner wan't very old at all. He was acting like he'd never done this before. He probably hadn't. He was a boy in a suit, shaking in pleasure against Lain from a few kisses and a touch.

Lain was bracing himself against the desk to hold them both up but then Mr. Mandrake pulled away. Slowly, he went to his knees. The fingertips of one hand kept a light contact with his partner, dragging down Lain's shirt as he moved. Each one left a trail of goos bumps on Lain's chest... his abdomen... He jumped when Mr. Mandrake reached slightly below, to his zipper.

"Whoa!" Lain cried out, covering his exposed boxers with a hand, "Are you sure you want to do this so fast?"

"Do you..." there was a furious, red blush across the kid's cheeks and the tips of his ears. He hadn't looked Lain in the face since the question about women. "Do you not want me to?" Lain's pulse skyrocketed. He gave up on caring about the consequences.

At the door across the room a throat was cleared. "Sorry for my tardiness Mr. Lain." Said the real John Mandrake in a calm, disdainful voice. To Lain, the fall of that voice may have been the fall of the roof on his head. He looked at the strict man at the door. He looked at the flushed boy kneeling on the floor. Their appearances were exactly the same. The Mandrake who's hands were still on Lain giggled. "Oh, let us alone Johnny boy. I was just about to make a very good reputation for you."

The Mandrake at the door didn't even twitch. "Mr. Lain, pleas clean your self up and reschedule with Piper. Bartimeaus, let him go."

Still holding Lain's hips, the Mandrake on the floor stuck out his tong at his counterpart. He turned back to his captive with a smile not at all like Mandrake, and put a short kiss on Lain's undone zipper. He got up and slowly walked, hands in pockets, to the door where the other Mandrake was waiting. The real Mandrake closed the door behind both of them, leaving Lain alone in the office trying to remember how to breath.

"How long were you watching?" I didn't really have to ask. I'd heard Mandrake's heartbeat from behind the slightly open door for 68 seconds before He'd interrupted. It's increased speed could have been from anger, fear, or stress but his breathing gave away the game. It must have been his own voice pleading, "Do you not want me to?" that got to him. I'd honestly had a hard time restraining myself from cackling at that.

"I wasn't," the lying little perv said in a calm as anything tone. His face had less life in it than that on the marble bust of Gladston he was passing.

"He really thought I was you! Doesn't it disturb you a little that you're sending out signals like that to men? Even more than that, commoners!" I tut tutted. "Must make you sick. You won't be getting any sleep for days!" I was sure of that last one. For someone as repressed as him, seeing my hands all over the help had probably been the hight of his sex life.

"I may not." Mandrake replied. I blinked, confused that he would admit it. "Your abuse of that poor man has thrown this month's schedule into traction. I'll be up all night with damage control."

That would make me happy in certain circumstances, but it wasn't what I was going for at the moment.

"Ah, I see. Well, that being the case, I'll just screw him outside of office hours then."

Mandrake for the tiniest of moments, stopped his foot half way from the carpeted floor, and then continued his step. I too, paused for a moment, and with my best surprised voice said, "Oh... no. You don't actually... _fancy_ him, do you?"

He kept walking ahead of me, but his ears turned red. My grin grew by a few teeth. Check mate.

Hey everyone. Hope you enjoyed, but I recognize the deep need for a beta here. If anyone's willing to explain how that works, pleas pleas do. See you all for the next chapter. Hope the writing gets better, sheesh...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey! I still want everything from spelling corrections to your ideas of what might happen next (although I think you'll be surprised). If you have the tiniest thing to say, say it. Help me figure this whole mess out. Thank you for reading!

* * *

The shower felt good. High pressure jets of water pounded at Nathaniel's tense muscles. He was leaning with his forearm against the tiled wall before him. The wall made no impression. His eyes were closed. Photo accurate images of paper work and ancient incantatorial texts filled his head.

At first, the finger tips touched his skin so lightly that he thought they were rivulets of water streaming across his chest. Even the lips brushing his collar bone didn't seem real. He opened his eyes and stiffened.

Warm brown eyes were looking up, into his. Lain stood between Nathaniel's bare chest and the white tile wall. Little downy bits of his brown hair were still dry. The rest of him was very wet; sparkling drops of water decorated his eyelashes. The tips of his nose and chin had the liquid dripping sloppily from them to his shoulders - to his chest. The man's nipple nearly touched Nathaniel's sternum. Nathaniel knew this immediately with out taking his eyes from Lain's.

"Get out of my shower, Bartimeaus." Lain's copy grinned with those lips. " Making that a bit hard aren't you; pinning me like this?"

"You got in by yourself. Now get out." The fingers continued their journey. All of their calluses and creases were in the right places. The imitation was perfect in every respect but the expressions on his face. "Why not get _off_?" Nathaniel felt a touch on his thigh, working it's way in. "Wouldn't hurt a sole and I know you wouldn't do the real one. Or maybe one of these days you'll finally break down and fuck him over that pretty, old desk of yours." Nathaniel grabbed the traveling hand before it could get any further, and twisted as if it were human bone that he could break."Get out."

The demon got, making sure their bodies connected as he slid past his master. He kept Lain's form. As he slunk from the room he left wet footprints and mutterings about the "pretty, old desk." Nathaniel really only considered the offer for a second.

* * *

Piper was absent today. In her place, a dark skinned boy with cloths a touch too casual had directed Lain to Mr. Mandrake's study. Now he was serving tea to the two suited men. Lain didn't pay much attention to him. He was too embarrassed to be in the exact same spot in which, only a few days before, he had nearly thrown everything away. The one thing about the boy that caught his attention was the grace of his long, dark fingers on the white china. They reminded him even more of sex and cringing shame.

Slowly, he set his legal pad and binder down on the desk again. He noticed again, that somebody was standing unusually close to him. He felt goos bumps rase on his arms but it was just the kid with the tea. Lain relaxed just a moment before he felt a hand on his ass. It slid, pulling the fabric of his trousers tight. It squeezed in the exact spot that he'd grabbed the fake Mandrake.

Stiffly, Lain turned to look directly at the owner of the hand. The boy was smiling. He patted Lain's ass once more and proceeded from the room with the tea cart wheeling along behind him. He looked quite care free.

"Mr. Mandrake?" Lain queried in an impressively steady voice, "Was that..." His throat closed on the question.

Mr. Mandrake looked up from his own binder of notes. "Yes." Lain swallowed. Mr. Mandrake watched the man's Adam's apple move under the skin of his throat. "I'd understand if you didn't feel comfortable working here any more. I'm sure Mr. Scott wouldn't mind terribly if he had to resume the post."

Lain startled and looked at the minister for the first time since he'd arrived. "No!" he blurted. "I mean... if working with me isn't too much trouble for you, I'd really like to continue." He looked back down at his feet. That was not the right thing to say at all. What if it sounded like a come on? He would probably be dismissed anyway. Maybe he should be. What he had done, the way he had touched the impostor must have disgusted Mr. Mandrake. Maybe he should be in some sort of jail for his perverted mistake. Thoughts like these choked his mind. He clenched his fist in the material of his trousers to stop from shaking.

Mr. Mandrake's expression may have been mistaken for a smile, but no one was looking to make that mistake. "Then sit down."

* * *

Lain really could be a reporter. Since childhood, he'd read every section of _the times_, first page to last, every day. His writing echoed the style of an interview or exposé no matter the topic. In that writing, there was never a grammatical error or misspelled word. Lain felt that he was meant to be a reporter.

Unfortunately, he hadn't had an employer or coworker that truthfully agreed with him. He currently worked in the office of _the Bell_ as something of a secretary errand boy combination. The task of the hour was to get lunch for the diligently working 'real' reporters on his floor.

He repeated the list of thirteen very specific orders in a near shout over the clacking keyboards and phone conversations, "...and two turkey with mustard. Is that right?"

"No. It was one turkey with mustard and one turkey with mustard, honey, and jalapeños." the correction came.

Lain shook his head. "Evens, you're crazy. You know that?"

Evens grinned. "Don't be grumpy. You know you'd like it."

"He doesn't seem all that grumpy to me, at least compared to the usual," said a woman from somewhere at the other end of the office.

"I agree," came another voice, "In fact, I'd say he is positively glowing with good attitude and confidence." As Lain headed for the stairwell, he saw Cameron, the owner of the voice, tracing an imaginary ora around his body from a distance. "Oh my!" Cameron dropped his pointing finger with a sarcastic look of intensity. "You didn't get laid last night, did you?"

Several reporters snorted into their phones or cups of coffee as Lain flipped a single digit salute over his shoulder. He was grinning as much as they were.

Two flights down, he murmured, "I wish."

* * *

um.. so yeah.. comment? ^_^


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